#gamble plantation

[ausetkmt]

A Florida plantation that had slaves still stands today | wtsp.com

Tucked away on the side of a busy Manatee County road stands the vestige of a defining era in American history.

At its peak, the Gamble Plantation enslaved 190 men, women and children. Federal documents say they ranged in age from two months to 105 years old.

Their stories are not well known. In fact, few locals are even aware of a slave plantation in the Tampa Bay region.

Some historians say it's intentional.

A descendant says it's time for change.

Chandra's Gamble 'This is my history'

One of Chandra Carty's first visits to the Gamble Plantation was during her time as a high school student in Manatee County. 

"We didn't call it a plantation, we called it a mansion. I didn't know it was a plantation until maybe, I don't know, 10, 15 years ago," Carty, who is in her 60s, said. "Growing up, this was a mansion. So, they obscured what really happened here."

Interstate signs leading to the site make no mention of a plantation — only a mansion. It's only upon arrival that a sign reads, "Judah P. Benjamin Confederate Monument" at Gamble Plantation State Historic Park.

"How would the word change from plantation?" Carty asked.

However, Carty's quest for more information about the Gamble Plantation goes beyond the name. A family research project revealed she has direct connections to the site. Her great-great grandmother, Mariah, married Nelson Burton, who was enslaved at the plantation.

"The Manatee County historical records show in 1872, two freed ex-slaves being married, and that's where our family history picks up," she said.

It's history Carty and others who study the site say is missing from the Gamble Plantation, which now as a state park focuses heavily on its Confederate themes and memorial to Confederate cabinet member Judah P. Benjamin. He served as Secretary of State to the Confederacy and stayed at the plantation for a brief time on his escape from the country at the end of the Civil War.

"To be in line with how contemporary historians, contemporary museums, anthropologists try to interpret these public heritage sites, there needs to be a significant push to foreground the stories of the enslaved laborers here," Dr. Diane Wallman, associate professor of anthropology at the University of South Florida, said.

"As you know, somebody who studies history, and believes in, you know, the thorough and full telling of history, it makes me sad that the stories of particular people that lived here, died here, worked here, are not being told," she said.

Currently, there is little on the site that mentions the experiences of the enslaved. A visit to the plantation's information center does have a typewritten list of the names of all those enslaved. However, unlike other displays, there is no museum label to describe its significance.

"I want to see when I go into the little information booth, to see the story of specific slaves, to see Nelson Burton's story, because life is a story," Carty said. "We need to tell the story the best that we can. Where did the slaves live? What did their day to day activity consist of?"

A big Gamble The rise and fall of the Gamble Plantation

In the early 1840s, Robert Gamble of Tallahassee, Fla., used slave labor to establish a sugar plantation on about 3,500 acres of land along the Manatee River. 

Federal documents show he came to the area under the Florida Armed Occupation Act, which gave away 160 acres of land to settlers willing to develop the area and battle indigenous inhabitants.

According to paperwork filed with the National Park Service, those enslaved to Gamble lived in 57 slave cabins on the plantation. They are credited for the success of the plantation and sugar mill. 

Unable to keep up with "natural disasters and a fickle sugar market," information from Florida State Parks says Gamble was driven into debt by 1856 and sold the plantation in 1859.

A path forward Reconciling past with present

Documents filed with the National Park Service show in the 1920s, the United Daughters of the Confederacy purchased the Gamble Plantation mansion, restored it and made it a Confederate shrine.

10 investigates got records going back to the 1970s that show the UDC made an agreement with the state to limit the plantation's interpretation mostly to its Confederate themes.

When a state park leader proposed changes, he faced resistance. 

"There was pushback from the state government level. There's letters from senators...supporting the UDC and folks and trying to keep this focused on the Confederacy Judah P. Benjamin and Robert Gamble," Wallman said. "it's come up in the 90s, it's come up again now, where we're trying to have these conversations about expanding the narrative here and making it more inclusive."

John Sims, the late Sarasota-based artist who based some of his last projects on reimagining parts of the Gamble Plantation said he would like to see a memorial to the enslaved at the site.

“The state should consider…funding and even through legislation being able to support efforts to memorialize the history of enslaved folks and their relationship to the various slave plantations in the state of Florida,” the late Sarasota-based artist John Sims told 10 Investigates’ Emerald Morrow before his death in December 2022.

“Let’s look at some of these former slave plantations as places that really belong to all of us, particularly descendants of African slaves who have occupied those spaces,” Sims said.

Requests for on-camera interviews with the Judah P. Benjamin chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy were denied, but member Evelyn Hoskins said she believes others will be open to doing more at the Gamble Plantation to honor the enslaved.

"We are all looking for answers," she said. "The slaves were just as much of the Gamble story as anyone else."

10 Investigates also reached out to the Florida Department of Environmental Protection, which oversees the Gamble Plantation Historic State Park. A spokesperson denied our request for an interview, but said in a statement:

"The Florida Park Service is committed to providing resource-based recreation while preserving, interpreting and restoring natural and cultural resources, and the agency strives to do this in a positive and appropriate manner.

"Our agency is always evaluating how we communicate Florida's unique history across all state parks, including at Gamble Plantation Historic State Park."

Carty remains optimistic. She said her focus’s is not on removing what’s at the site. Instead, she wants to include what’s missing.

"I just want the complete story because this is my history," Carty said. "Why would I tear down my history? Nelson had to build this? Why would I destroy?"

So, she's calling on the UDC, the state park, lawmakers and even the governor to push a more balanced version of history—one she never wants to be forgotten. 

"I'm feeling hopeful," Carty said. "Hopeful that some I see the image of Nelson...the image of Mariah, and they say, 'job well done.' You finally got our story out so everybody can understand what it was like living here."

[uzumaki-rebellion]

A.N.: Content Warning, violence, slave lynchings, blood, sex.

"Know that you are loved

Even if you don't love yourself

Know that you are loved

Even if you don't love yourself…"

Cleo Soul – "Know That You Are Loved"

Celeste washed away blood, tissue, and pieces of teeth from her hair that once belonged to three men she tried to help get home.

Sitting in her tub, she let the showerhead rain warm water down on her, creating steam that enveloped her in warmth. The last trickles of blood that soaked her locs ran down the drain in pink rivulets. She raised her knees to her chest and hugged her legs.

She couldn't stay in Marigny anymore.

Vampires, ghouls, and gargoyles knew where she stayed, and she felt like a lighthouse for supernatural entities to fuck up her life even more. She couldn't take a chance staying with her parents, grandparents, or older brothers and their families. Bringing danger to them had to be avoided at all costs.

She wiped her face of tears and let the shower water wash it away. Celeste needed to activate a new state of mind. One that moved in the world with intention.

Celeste scrubbed blood from the side of her car and used carpet cleaner to clear away the dark splashes that stained her passenger seat. Afterward she dropped her car off at a dealership to replace the busted window. She slept most of the day and returned to work at the chicken processing plant using an Uber. The news of the disappearance spread around fast, and she feigned shock at the news that Hector, Shorty, and Quentin disappeared with everyone else. Police detectives wandered about the facility interviewing workers that shared the same shift the previous day. She answered questions concisely and never gave up info that she was with them during their last hour. Celeste kept her head down and pushed through her work. She clocked out and used the turn of events as fodder to get a few days off from the elder care facility.

It was time to dig into Miss Irma's boxes.

Celeste fixed herself a turkey and bacon sandwich and hunkered down, opening every box she brought home. Miss Irma's meticulous organization of her private papers and photos helped her separate the records into neat piles. At the bottom of a box filled with several thick books on history, the occult, and supernatural symbolism, she found a small plastic case filled with flash drives loaded with archival images, more family photos, and copies of folders with Miss Irma's travel photography for over the last five decades. Personal correspondence, postcards, and holiday cards shared by her friends and former work colleagues were tucked inside clear plastic bags.

She spent half a day piecing together the story of Terrence Richmond Guidry, a former enslaved human and leader of a little known Black and Indigenous uprising in the swamps of Opelousas, Louisiana.

Celeste had to stop almost every twenty minutes to get up from her sewing room desk to absorb the incredible story of the man who knocked her up.

Terry had been descended from enslaved Creoles way back, the kind that negotiated plaçages and attended quadroon balls to link wealthy white men with femmes de couleur to create free-born octoroons like his mother. His family upheld the caste system and pretended to be white for years until Terry's birth threatened to expose them. Considered too dark, too curly-haired, and too full-featured to pass as white with his unwanted throwback genes, even with green eyes, his land-owning white-passing Black father didn't send him off to Paris to be educated like his fairer male siblings. His father sent him to New Orleans at fourteen to learn a respectable trade as a shipbuilder, but slave catchers captured and sold him to a sugarcane plantation. News reached Terry two years later that his own father sold him to pay off a gambling debt and to amend back taxes due on their plot of land. His mother died of grief over it. None of his older brothers tried to save him. They married white women and diluted the bloodline back to unsullied whiteness and never returned to America. Celeste closed her eyes and wept for him. Family betrayal cut the deepest.

His owner was a strict Catholic who took a liking to Terry. Allowed him to marry an enslaved woman named Delilah. They had three children. Two boys and a girl born in bondage. The daughter died of smallpox when she was three. The conditions on the sugar plantation were harsh, yet somehow Terry and his wife survived with their two sons.

Celeste jumped up from her seat and paced in her sewing room. He lied to her about having children because they came before he turned into a vampire. She drank tea and snacked on some fruit, letting her mind sit with the man's past as an abused slave. What other atrocities had he endured? She entertained the idea that it may have been a relief to become non-human in order to get away from the banality of white evil. There were more than a few times she stopped reading and cried for him.

After writing about smallpox passing through his plantation like a deadly wildfire killing one third of the enslaved population, Miss Irma's historical biography veered off the rails and entered the domain of what would be considered speculative fiction in the real world. Terry blended in with a group of newly arrived Haitian captives and saltwater Africans who had been illegally brought into the south to replace the lost human property. It was against the law to import slaves into the United States after 1808, and the influx of Black people from the Caribbean and the Western Coast of Africa secretly continued on Terry's plantation during his time there in the 1850s. Slaves were bred as Black gold for the small farmer and large plantations, often sold in lots to turn profits quickly as cotton became king of the southern economy. The devastating loss of so many able-bodied field hands made it impossible for wealthy planters to wait around twelve to fifteen years for a new crop of humans to be bred and physically capable of picking cotton. Illegal importations saved them with a fresh influx of free Black labor immediately without a long-term profit loss.

Terry learned Haitian Creole and taught his diaspora brethren the Franglais he grew up with mixed in with the Cajun dialect of the overseers who beat him constantly. Under Miss Irmas's pen, Celeste became intimate with the fierce mindset of Terry in the past.

Somehow Terry convinced the handful of Haitians, Chitimatcha Native people trapped on their own stolen land, and his own mixed African population of homegrown pre-Black Americans to rise up and kill the masters on their plantation and two others nearby. Seventy-five enslaved men and women used machetes, pickaxes, and shovels to bash in the brains and slice the bodies of white men, white women, and their white babies. Slaves who tried to snitch were slaughtered right beside their masters.

Miss Irma copied an archival photo of Terry's former plantation, and Celeste gasped at another startling photo of Terry among other unnamed slaves. The look in his fiery eyes showed how ready he was to kill if given the chance to take retribution.

On a final chapter of Terry's pre-vampire life, Miss Irma documented how Delilah and his sons were spirited away to safety by free Black abolitionists in another parish. The uprising ended when a militia used firearms, attack dogs, and horses to outrun and overpower the enslaved rebels on their defiant march toward another parish.

The militia caught Terry fleeing with five other slaves, two of them Native, who escaped capture toward the end. Days later, the militia surrounded them in a hot, mosquito-infested swamp, where they evaded gators and poisonous water moccasins that slithered on top of the brackish swamp water.

All six slaves were lynched from giant oak trees covered in drooping Spanish moss on a sweltering summer night. Celeste's eyes stayed riveted to the typewriter ink on yellowing sheets of paper. She cross-referenced the lynchings with a Google search and also looked it up in one of the old books Miss Irma kept on slave rebellions in the southeast. The event was known as the Opelousas Rebellion.

Celeste's fingers shook while reading.

The authorities buried five of the slaves' recovered bodies in a mass grave, and the lynch mob that cornered Terry and his cohorts met mysterious circumstances, resulting in their murder. Their bodies were found stacked neatly, showing ripped throats and shredded wrists. Every drop of blood in them drained. Only one witness escaped to alert others and he eventually went insane after sharing a chilling tale of night demons attacking them. Miss Irma's historical recollection of the official record switched over into what had to be Terry's personal statement as a firsthand witness and survivor.

A roaming pack of vampires came upon the lynching and slaughtered everyone they could find…except for Terry. He had been the last one hung from the tree, his body jerking in the throes of approaching death, dangling like strange fruit until a vampire turned him into one of their own, saving what insignificant life he had left.

Miss Irma had no further details other than Terry finding his way back to his family a year later and living through centuries, reinventing himself as a son, grandson, great-grandson, and so on with each generational loss. At the bottom of the last page, Miss Irma wrote a handwritten note to herself: Check on the background of T'ewati Kobebi, the Aksumite Empire, and look up biblical notes on why the mention of tattoos only occurs once in the bible from Jesus.

Scribbled below the word 'tattoos' was a hand-drawn depiction of Terry's tattoo with a complete circle. Miss Irma drew the bottom half in black ink and shaded the top half with pencil lead. Between the typed manuscript, she had inserted two folded sheets of white copy paper. Celeste unfolded the sheets to find over fifty mystical symbols of chakras, magic circles, and pentagrams. She recognized a rudimentary ankh symbol, and several Christian Coptic crosses. Most of the magic circle images were underlined or had an asterisk next to it. Several had some configuration of an eight-pointed star symbol in the center. One looked eerily similar to Terry's tattoo that she circled in red ink.

Celeste spent the rest of her time in bed looking at the gargoyle pictures from Miss Irma's various flash drives on her laptop. She smiled at how young Miss Irma was in the fifties and sixties, traveling around the world, snapping photos of ugly relics. Her looks back then reminded Celeste of Lena Horne with the silky hair and button nose. A tattered journal explained the differences in gargoyles based on their country of origin and mapped out their locations worldwide. There was a lot of biblical scholarship research on Satan and the Book of Revelations, angels, demons, and the decline of the American church. Miss Irma had a keen interest in proving that ancient myths and folklore were real. Celeste shivered in her bed. Miss Irma listed many fantastical creatures that existed alongside the few Celeste had encountered in person. It would take months, maybe even a year, to read and decipher all the written research from that brilliant mind.

With her eyes exhausted from reading and scrolling images, Celeste fell into a deep sleep. Nightmare visions of the vampire attack caused her to toss, turn, and shout in her sleep. Dark dreams of holding a brown baby with fangs woke her up with a pounding headache…and a pounding on her door. Her cell phone vibrated on her nightstand. She answered it.

"Hello?"

"Duchess, I'm outside your front door," Micah said.

His voice sounded stressed with worry. She climbed out of bed and let him inside her home.

"I've been calling you all day. Why aren't you answering your phone?" he asked.

Celeste plopped down on her sectional and covered her eyes with her hand. Micah sat next to her.

"My life is fucked up, Micah."

She glanced at her cousin. His handsome face openly conveyed how much he loved her and cared about her well-being.

"I'm pregnant. Terry is the father."

Micah squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips together in a disappointed line.

"I told you not to—"

"Stop! Please! I don't need you making me feel worse than I do."

"How far along are you?"

"I'll be ten weeks in a couple of days."

"Okay…okay…what are you going to do? Are you keeping it?"

"I don't think I can because…."

Celeste looked at her cousin. She chewed on her bottom lip, stopping herself from saying the word vampire out loud.

"I'm thinking of going to California to have an abortion."

Her stomach muscles cramped, and she rubbed it, letting out a breath as the pain went away.

"I can go with you. My job owes me some extra off days for covering people."

She nodded.

"I haven't told anyone except you, and I don't want others to know."

"Will you tell him?"

"I don't know where he is. We haven't spoken in person or over the phone since he left here."

"Decisions like this are hard…especially a second time. I think you should go talk to Father Mbenga."

"Confession? Why would I tell Father Mbenga about this? He'd see it as a sin and talk me out of it."

"I didn't say do a confessional…I meant seek counsel from a spiritual advisor you trust. I can see in your eyes that this is painful, and spiritual counsel always helps you, Duchess. Your voice is saying get rid of it, but your eyes…bay-buh…your eyes are full of doubt. When we were teenagers, the thought of you having a baby so young hurt me, because I knew that nigga who did it to you was bad news. We rushed you through it because it was the right thing to do for you at that time."

"What about this time?"

"You're a grown woman who wants children…a family. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise."

"I never wanted to be a single mother, Micah."

"Well…if we find that green-eyed pussy bandit, maybe you won't have to be."

"I thought you were pissed about that man."

"I am, and he needs to face his responsibilities either way."

"There'd be no point telling him about it if I don't keep it."

"You want to keep it."

"I can't."

"Listen, we can go over to the church, and you can just talk about the stress you're under…nothing about being pregnant. God always has a way of showing the way when you really need it."

Celeste teared up and wiped at her eyes.

"I'll get dressed," she said.

Micah waited for Celeste outside of the church.

She walked inside, crossed herself in the vestibule and made her way toward the space worshippers were in while the church was still being worked on. She genuflected in front of a pew and then sat down. The stillness within the sanctuary humbled the anxiety in her chest. She folded her hands across her stomach and pondered her situation quietly. As a little girl, she often imagined herself having a baby to carry inside of St. Augustine's for a christening with all of her family around, celebrating her own little bundle of joy wrapped in a soft, white lace Christening gown.

Sadly, Celeste could only see herself carrying a baby that would probably sizzle in pain if Father Mbenga poured baptismal holy water over her head. It wouldn't be right to bring a child into the world that would only face the horrors of a lonely vampire existence like her father.

She stood up quickly.

"Sister Celeste?"

Father Mbenga approached her from the back of the pew.

"Did we have an appointment?" he asked.

"No, Father Mbenga, I just…"

Celeste's lip trembled, and she closed her eyes. A tear rolled down her face.

"Sit…sit…oh, what troubles you?" he asked.

Father Mbenga slipped in next to her on the pew and Celeste choked out her words.

"I find myself in a situation that was avoidable, but I think maybe I wanted it too, and I don't know how to move forward."

She wiped a dangling teardrop from her nose.

"I came to talk to you about it, but I don't think I'm ready to do that yet."

"God is with you, no matter the problem you face. When you are ready, come back. The church is your spiritual backbone for whatever storms you may have to weather."

"Thank you," she said.

He stood with her and walked her to the exit.

Outside, the bright sun and muggy heat greeted her. Micah jumped out of his car.

"You're done already?" he asked.

"No. I changed my mind. I'll come back another time when I feel stronger…braver. I want to walk around."

"I'll come with you."

They took a slow trip around memory lane and Micah pointed out spots where they played as children or snuck out to meet boys and girls for street fights, or smoke out sessions. Her cousin made her laugh and remember what it was like to be young and carefree. An hour later, they strolled to their grandparents' home so Celeste could urinate and hear the comforting sounds of Big Chief and Grand-mère enjoying their Saturday afternoon. They ate leftover beef stew with white rice and Big Chief showed them sketches for his new Indian suit.

She left her grandparents' house with a full belly and sprinkles of love cast over her.

"You look better," Micah said.

"I feel a little better. Still a lot to think about, though."

"I'll take you home. You can think some more and call me when you want to talk it out. I would hang with you longer, but I gotta get ready for work later."

She linked her arm around his.

"Thank you for supporting me…as always," she said.

They ambled back around to his car and he drove toward her house. Her phone chirped and the auto dealership mechanic left a text stating that they had to order a new window for her and the Charger wouldn't be ready until Monday or Tuesday at the latest. Celeste sighed and didn't worry too much. She had time off from work and hadn't planned on working Sunday either. Her little fetish side hustle videos covered the elder care facility income for the Lord's day.

"Well, I'll be damned," Micah stated loudly.

Celeste's heart swelled in her chest and she gripped the door handle of Micah's sporty Lexus coupe.

Seated at the top step of her stoop was Terry. Clothed in a simple orange T-shirt and comfortable tan cargo pants, he raised his head and stood immediately the moment he noticed Celeste.

"You want me to stay?" Micah asked.

"No, I need to talk to him alone."

"Call me if it goes south, okay?"

"I will," she said.

She stepped out of the Lexus and Micah watched the both of them without leaving, making sure she was truly okay.

"Hey," Terry said.

"Hi."

"It's been a while, and I wanted to see you. Sorry for not giving you a heads up that I was coming back down."

"You stopped communicating with me. I thought maybe…maybe it was for the best since we're living in two different places."

In the sunlight, his eyes held the color of balmy Caribbean waters. No blinking meant his gaze pierced into the deepest part of her. All she could think of standing there in front of her house was that his Black father had sold him into slavery. Terrible white men strung him up in a tree…all because he wanted to free his people. Did it matter if a strange vampire pack saved his life so he could watch over his loved ones for centuries? He didn't act like a feral beast. The man loved his family. Loved her.

Her chest shuddered. Tears sprang out too fast to cover up her emotions. Terry wrapped his muscular arms around her.

"I'm sorry I had to leave. It's been difficult being away from you, Duchess."

She buried her face in his shoulder, unable to express openly everything she'd experienced since his absence. It made no sense to be terrified of him and in love equally. She pushed back from him and averted eye contact.

In the daylight, they were safe. However, she didn't think it was wise for him to know that she was aware of his lineage. She had to play it close to the vest.

"How long are you here for?"

"A couple of days and then I have to get back. I got a room at a hotel…I just needed to see you again. Baby, I miss you."

Celeste's stomach flip-flopped and she climbed the steps to her front door. Glancing around, she noticed Micah still parked in front of her place. She nodded her head for him to leave and he made a 'call me' hand motion before he pulled away from the curb.

Terry followed her inside the house.

"I'll make us some tea," she said, needing an excuse not to look at him directly.

In the kitchen she fumbled with the tea-making, spilling sugar cubes everywhere and nearly breaking a saucer for the cups. She focused on keeping her hands steady as she carried the cups and saucers out into the living room.

They sipped together in silence, the tension between them thick like the roux in her grandmother's cooking pot.

"This place still feels cozy," he said.

He put his drink down and reached for her hand. She pulled back, keeping a polite distance.

"You have every right to be mad at me for not keeping in touch, or at least telling you I couldn't see you again right away."

"Things happen. We had fun. I was upset for a minute, but I'm over it."

So many questions ran races around in her brain. What did he do while he was gone? Did he hunt people and just stay low key, hiding in trees or stalking victims near clubs? Were there others like him? Daywalkers who other vampires depended on? The Deacon said Terry was an apex predator, and yet she never picked up on anything violent about him except for when he punched those white men two months ago on her behalf.

The Deacon and his pack wanted Terry. Once the night time came, they would probably know he was there with her. What if they pretended to be nice to her just to lure him back for nefarious reasons?

Celeste didn't know what to do.

"Duchess? Why won't you look at me?"

She played it off.

"I'm still upset with you, so I don't even want to look at you. I think you should leave. What we had is over, and it's best if we both move on."

The words sounded corny and cliché flowing out of her mouth, but it was the best she could come up with. She didn't know for sure if she was protecting him or herself. Maybe both.

"If you want me to go, I will. But I want you to look me in my eyes and say it…so I'll know it's real."

Don'tdoitDon'tdoitDon'tdoit…don't…

She squeezed her eyes shut and refused to look at him.

"Be mad, but please…don't shut me out. You're all I have left," he pleaded.

Celeste rocked forward in her seat and fell apart. The pain of being alone wafted off of him and she couldn't resist touching him again. She threw her arms around him and he rested his chin on top of her head. His body trembled against her and she was so close to spilling her secret and his. She clamped her mouth shut.

He cradled her chin with his hand, and she still refused to look at him. Celeste didn't want him to read her mind or do any of the things vampires could do to break her will.

"Why won't you look at me?"

"I can't…I don't wanna fall for you again."

He pressed his forehead against hers.

"I still love you," he said. "Being away hasn't changed my feelings. Tell me you don't love me anymore and I'll go away…never to bother you again. Je t'aime tellement, j'ai besoin de toi dans ma vie. Je veux être avec toi… all your life, Duchess."

Celeste gasped. He loved and needed her in his life. Wanted to be with her for as long as she lived. She glanced at the clock on her living room wall. They had a little over five hours before the sun went down.

Celeste looked directly into Terry's eyes. If he was brazen enough to read her thoughts in the past, would he do it now?

He only sighed in relief and kissed her lips gently once.

"Your eyes tell me you still feel the same about me," he said.

She balked for a second. He didn't invade her thoughts. Terry lifted her right hand and kissed her palm.

"I want to take you somewhere special to me."

"Where?"

"Mémé's house. You can think of it as a vacation."

"Why didn't you take me there before?" she asked.

"I thought it might've been too soon, especially after her death. Time away from here has given me a chance to think."

"I've done a lot of thinking too…and we need to talk…about a bunch of things. My life is different now—"

He kissed her.

His lips covered her mouth completely, and she gave in to the passion he conveyed for her.

She loved him.

Felt sorry for him.

Feared him.

Every emotion within her became tossed about, muddying the waters of discernment. Clarity. Down…down…down she went, drowning in his kisses and his tongue sliding in her mouth. She gave back hungry kisses, too. No human could understand what it felt like to be kissed and touched by a vampire. The man knew every spot on her body to break her down further, from licking the side of her neck to plunging his tongue in her ear.

He groaned her name into her skin. She folded like a losing poker hand.

She wanted him. He wanted her. Was that so wrong? A human and a vampire feeling desire for one another? Miss Irma said he loved her, and would a ghost lie?

Terry made her feel things that she'd never experienced with a human man before. Cherished and protected. Love overflowed from him and poured into her and she was willing to be damned by it if it meant she could have that feeling forever in his arms.

He lifted her from the sectional and carried her into the bedroom. She let him undress her. It didn't take long to unbutton her summer blouse and pull down her skirt. She kicked off her sandals and watched him take off his clothes, his eyes never leaving hers.

He kissed every part of her and took his time fondling her breasts. Her nipples were sensitive and a simple flick of his fingers had them stiff. He sucked on them far longer than she expected, and she gazed at the ceiling. The light of day looked even more magical with him in her arms. His fingers slid across her locs and he played with them like they were just as sexy as her breasts. The full arousal of his dick slapped against her legs and she ignored it, knowing it would have her laid out soon enough. Once Terry put that hammer on her, wasn't no sane reason on earth to try and keep a rational mind.

He rested on his side, hugging her close to his naked warmth. His thick fingers stroked her cheek. She luxuriated in the shivers running across her skin.

"I want us to stay like this for days and days on end," he said.

She traced an index finger around his right nipple, and it hardened. Puckering her lips, she forced him to lower his head to kiss her again. He shifted his position even lower and kissed her vulva, paying close attention to the arc above her clit. She felt the thumping under her clitoral hood and moaned his name when he licked all over her inner labia. After a time, he rose with shiny, wet lips. Celeste made minimum effort to respond in kind. She remained a pillow princess and let him put forth all the effort in lovemaking. Her goal was to remain alert and experience his affections without losing herself to the lust.

He gave more effort to engage her, going so far as to place her hand on his erection, forcing her to please him. She slid her hand up and down with his hand covering hers, helping her keep on task, never going further than the thick ridge under his tip. Pre-cum spilled out, and he reached for a bottle of lube on the side table. He squeezed the dark blue plastic bottle and the odor of vanilla became strong to her nose as the sticky lubricant coated his dick, helping her hand slide with a slick pressure on his length. Rubbing some around her opening, he stared at her face, drinking in the intoxicating way he made her feel with his lovemaking prowess. Love shined in his eyes and glowed all around his face. Her heart wanted to confess about the pregnancy, but her mind fought back to keep that hidden from him. She still wasn't sure what to do, and telling him wouldn't help her. It would just add more pressure and cloud her judgement.

Terry repositioned Celeste on her side. He lifted her leg and pushed the tip of his dick against her opening.

"Terry," she murmured.

He kissed her and penetrated in two places, her mouth with his tongue, and her pussy with his dick at the same time. She gripped the sheet on her bed and braced her back against his chest. Terry made that dick move in her pussy. He dug deep in her walls and the lube had her pussy slippery to accommodate his size. She stretched around him well enough, but her lips twisted up, letting out little yelps and squeals, unable to process how good it felt to have that dick back where it belonged.

He squeezed and played with her tits, enjoying the way they bounced on the bed as he rocked into her with a steady pounding. A minute later, he lifted her right leg and kept it suspended in the air, using it to balance the thrusts he gave.

"Goddamn, this shit stays so tight around me," he moaned. "You missed me, huh?" he teased.

She smiled and reached back to touch his hair.

"Pussy gonna have me making a mess all in it…keep squeezing this dick like that and you'll have a problem on your hands."

She laughed, and he kissed her, still pumping that thick dick into her depths. Her passive energy excited him more, perhaps making him feel like he had to prove himself to her again. He grunted, kept her leg up, and complimented her sugary walls with each slap of his balls on her ass. Between thrusts, he stroked her clit, edging her so good she started getting blurry vision.

He fucked in the same way that got her pregnant and that excited Celeste, causing her pussy to spasm before she was ready, her orgasm rippling all across that heavy dick.

"Cum on my dick…keep cumming on my…dick…yessss…just like that…taking this dick like the good girl you are…ooh shit, you're still cumming…you want me to nut, don't you? Make a big mess all in this pussy…that's what you want…I can feel it…look how you're doing all this dick…all this dick…fuck all this dick…"

His mouth slammed down on her neck, and this time, Celeste was aware of everything, the initial pain, the deep sucking to snatch away her blood, the pressure of teeth that became unnatural inside her throat. She could even feel her heartbeat thrum in time to his sucking—

Terry froze.

His thrusts abruptly stopped. He dropped her leg onto the bed. His tongue and lips no longer stole her lifeblood.

Slowly…ever so slowly…he pulled his teeth out of her neck. His dick pulsed inside her pussy and she had no control over the final contractions of her orgasm. He pushed her chin, making her look at him.

She nearly screamed.

His eyes glowed with the inhuman reflection that he shared with The Deacon. His canine teeth and premolars were long, sharp, and dripping with her blood. Even with the feral gleam in his eye and the vicious, sharp teeth exposed, Terry's beauty became enhanced in his full vampire glory.

How dumb and blind she had been!

This was his true self.

"You can't be," he whispered under his breath.

He licked her blood from his teeth and around his dripping lips.

"Impossible!" he yelled.

He pulled his dick out and they both could see how close he was to cumming. His pre-cum still spilled out.

Celeste shrank into herself and stayed in a tight ball on a corner of the bed, pulling the sheet over her breasts.

"A girl…" he whispered, his eyes staring off into space.

Celeste nodded and he jumped off the bed as if she had the plague.

"Vampires can't breed with humans."

There.

He said it out loud. Naming what he was to her face.

"I know what you are," she said. "But you got me pregnant."

His eyes watered, and he bared his teeth at her threateningly.

"He called her a dhampir. Told me she was priceless," she said, rising to her knees on the bed.

"He?" Terry said, his eyes narrowing.

"The Deacon—"

Terry had her by the throat and pinned against the wall above the headboard before she could finish another word. She tried prying his hand away from her throat.

"I can't breathe…Terry…"

"When did you see him?!"

His harsh tone scared her. She burst into tears.

He dropped her back on the bed and stepped away from her, staring down at her like she was a cursed thing. She rubbed her throat and left the room. Padding into her sewing room, she grabbed a manilla folder. She returned to the bedroom and tossed Miss Irma's biography about him on the bed.

"I know all about you, Terry. How you became a slave. Your lynching. Your re-birth as a vampire."

Terry touched Miss Irma's tome and shut his eyes. He opened them back up and looked at her naked body.

"When did you see Abai?"

"Abai?"

"That's his real name. The Deacon is just something I used to call him as a joke between us."

Terry's voice sounded tired. Celeste folded her arms across her breasts.

"He came here looking for you with four other female vampires a week ago. They saved my life the other day. Another group of vampires attacked my co-workers when I helped change their tire. Abai, he knew I was pregnant. He cut my hand and tasted my blood, told me I was having a girl."

"You let him feed from you?"

Terry's nostrils flared, and his sharp teeth looked more menacing.

"I didn't let him…it happened during the attack, and I was…protecting myself…protecting what's inside me. Miss Irma…Mémé…she came to me as a ghost while I was at work and told me I was pregnant first. She knew it was a girl…she told me to look in her papers to know your story."

"Dhampirs are not real. None have ever existed. It's a myth. Humans and vampires are two different species incapable of reproducing anything."

"Nigga, I didn't think you were real either, but I've seen two different types of vampires and a ghost. Go fucking figure!"

She stomped out of the bedroom and locked herself in the bathroom. Angry and full of tears, Celeste ran the shower and cleaned herself off. She pulled on her bathrobe from the hook on the bathroom door.

"You don't have to worry about me keeping this mythical fetus. I'm going to fly out-of-state to get it taken out of me!" she shouted.

A fiery pain burned in her chest. This was the outcome she expected from him finding out. Denial. Negative behavior. The typical lame male response of not wanting to take responsibility for his part in the mess. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her face looked wet and her eyes were red and puffy from crying in the shower.

"You can leave, Terry. I'll take care of everything. Let's just act like we never met. No one would believe me about vampires anyway, so don't trip about your secret."

She flung open the bathroom door, and he was right there, bigger than life, waiting for her to come out.

"I don't want you to take care of anything," he said.

"What?"

His eyes were wet with tears and full of longing.

"Maybe…maybe this is a miracle for us, Duchess…maybe this was meant to be. I have endured the loss of so much for so long. Do you think the god you love so much took pity on me?"

"What are you saying?"

"I want to have this baby with you.

Chapter 13 HERE.

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[snowmiserboio]

Im about to fucking lose it

schultz wasn't playing with the lives of django or broomhilda you fucking moron, this, THIS is how you should know that lily understand fuck all about media literacy. throughout the movie its made clear that schultz is repulsed by slavery as a whole, which includes the traders and owners, hell his first scene in the movie is shooting one slave trader in the head, before legally purchasing django to track down the brittle brothers(he later makes django a deal for his freedom because he doesnt know what the brittle brother looks like but django does, but it all sorta works out perfectly for django since, he fucking hates the brittle brothers. so not only does he get to kill the men who hurt his wife and humiliated him while he begged them not to whip her, he gets his freedom, and he gets 75 dollars for killing them, roughly 3'000 dollars in todays value) he then gives the other slaves the keys to their shackles, advises them to either A. help the remaining speck brother, the man keeping them in chains to the nearest doctor, which is 37 miles back the way they came, or shoot speck, bury him and his brother and then make their way to the north

at every opportunity to kill slavers schultz takes it because he despises the lot fiercely, hell in the very scene your using for a screenshot schultz is rather upset, not because calvin candie outsmarted him and got him to pay 12'000 dollars for broomhilda, 460,302.44 by todays value. he was upset thinking about the gruesome death of a slave he saw riding into candy land earlier that day,  D'Artagnan, the man was quite literally fed to the dogs. he wasnt originally going to kill candie, he wanted to get broomhilda her papers so she can legally be free with django, and the moment he got them he tried to rush the two out of the house(he briefly mentions to candie what Alexandre Dumas would've thought of D'Artagnan being fed to the dogs, considering he named his slave after one of the three musketeers, which dumas wrote)candie then forces schultz to shake his hand to complete the deal, which schultz doesnt want to do, he finds the bastard vile and disgusting, for good reason too. eventually he becomes so fed up with this that he shoots calvin candie in the heart with his hidden gun, his last words were him apologizing to django for shooting the man "Im sorry I couldn't resist"

schultz didnt play or gamble with djangos or broomhildas live to feed his own ego, he felt personally responsible for django after giving him his freedom and even agreed to help him find his wife. he sacrificed his own pride at candyland when calvin discovered why they were really there. and his last moments he spent it not sulking or pouting about his own damaged ego, he spent it thinking about a man he barely knew dying, and was disgusted by how cruel candyland and the man who owns candy land truly is.

had candie not pushed it, schultz would've been walking out of that plantation house unharmed with django and broomhilda in tow.

normally I would say "Auf wiedersehen," but since what "auf wiedersehen" actually means is "'till I see you again", and since I never wish to see you again, to you, ma'am, I say goodbye!

[whencyclopedia]

Native American Enslavement in Colonial America

Slavery was practiced by the Native Americans before any Europeans arrived in the region. People of one tribe could be taken by another for a variety of reasons but, whatever the reason, it was understood that the enslaved had done something – staked himself in a gamble and lost or allowed himself to be captured – to warrant such treatment.

This model changed with the arrival of the Spanish in the West Indies in 1492 and their colonization of that region, South, and Central America throughout the 16th century. Native Americans were then enslaved simply for being Native Americans. In North America, after the English arrived, Native Americans were at first enslaved as prisoners of war but, eventually, were taken and sold to plantations in the West Indies to clear the land for expansion of English colonies.

This practice continued throughout the colonial era aided and encouraged by Native American tribes themselves up through 1750 and, after the American War of Independence (1775-1783), natives were pushed into the interior as African slavery became more lucrative. Even so, the enslavement of Native Americans continued even after slavery was abolished by the 13th Amendment to the Constitution in 1865. Americans got around illegal enslavement of natives by calling it by other names and justified it in the interests of "civilizing the savages". The practice continued up through 1900, dramatically impacting Native American cultures, languages, and development.

Native American Slavery & Columbus

Native American tribes were incredibly diverse, each with their own culture, and far from the cohesive, unified civilization they are often represented as under the umbrella term "Native American" or "American Indian". Each tribe understood itself as inherently superior to others and although they would form alliances for short periods in a common cause, or for longer periods as confederacies, they frequently warred with each other for goods, in the name of tribal honor, and for captives, among other reasons.

Men, women, and children taken captive were then enslaved by the victorious tribe, sometimes for life and other times for a given number of years and, in still other cases, until they were adopted and became members of the tribe. People could also be enslaved as hostages, held to ensure compliance with a treaty, and in some tribes, people were not only enslaved for life but any children born to them were also considered slaves, thereby creating a slave class long before the arrival of Europeans.

This model changed after the arrival of Christopher Columbus (l. 1451-1506) in the West Indies in 1492 and the Portuguese in 1500. Columbus kidnapped natives he brought back to Spain as slaves on his first voyage and sent over 500 back on his second. Between 1493-1496, he implemented the encomienda system, which institutionalized Native American enslavement throughout the Spanish colonies of the New World, and, by the time the French, Dutch, and English began colonizing North America, the Transatlantic Slave Trade was already established.

Continue reading...

[read-marx-and-lenin]

sorry if this is like. a complex geo-historical question but why do you think fascism came out of europe in particular? my hunch was that it had something to do with westward expansion out of the levant leading to uncrossable ocean long before eastward expansion did? like cuz asia is huge and europe is realtively small in comparison? i'm just guessing though i would love to hear your thoughts.

Sorry for taking a while to answer this ask.

I want to say first, and I don't want to be too critical here and please don't take this personally, but your hunch is flawed and based on geographic essentialism. Human migration eastward happened thousands of years before colonialism was a thing. That's why there were people in the Americas in the first place. In addition, it was specific European powers who spearheaded colonialism in the first place. Not every European nation was on board at the same time, and although the upper classes of each European nation all eventually ended up benefiting from colonialism and imperialism, it is important to remember than not every nation engaged in colonialism directly. Europe was not forced to colonize. The nations that did did so for specific material benefits. Long distance trade was becoming increasingly efficient and profitable, and even before European contact with the Americas, there were colonial efforts underway in Africa, most famously with the colonization of Madeira, Cape Verde, and the Canary Islands, the latter of which resulted in the genocide of the Guanche people, which alongside the genocide of the Taino in Hispaniola became the first of many colonial genocides. Cape Verde was the preeminent slave trading outpost in the Atlantic, and slave plantations were first built in Madeira and the Canaries, serving as models for later plantations in the Americas.

There are many theories for why colonialism occurred where it did and when it did. I am not particularly an expert on this subject, and there is no definitive conclusion. I will say that the lingering effects of the Black Death in Europe likely played a role in both accelerating the collapse of feudalism and providing merchants and the nascent bourgeoisie with new opportunities and motives to further explore and search for new trade routes. The invention of the caravel and carrack and their adoption by Spain and Portugal also made trans-oceanic exploration and trade faster and more efficient. In addition, the Iberian powers had spent the last several centuries engaging in the Reconquista, and that expansionist tradition undoubtedly had effects on the shape of their economies and their approach to foreign relations. It is not a coincidence that Francisco Franco would later be compared to prominent Reconquista-era figures Pelagius and El Cid by his supporters and official propaganda. There is, in my view, a direct ideological throughline from the Crusades and the Reconquista, to colonialism and imperialism, and to fascism. If we are to compare this situation to the Ottoman Empire or the Ming Dynasty, we can see that those powers had no need for expansion or discovering new trade routes, as they were already quite large and powerful and were centers of trade in their own right, so their concerns were towards consolidating and maintaining their status rather than trying to gamble and innovate. This left them vulnerable once their nations declined, and they ultimately failed to keep up with the economic and technological innovations made in Europe as a result of colonial exploitation.

I would hope the comparisons of fascism to colonialism are clear; Aime Cesaire famously portrayed Hitler's rampage across Europe as the principles of colonialism being applied to Europe itself, and Napoleon's conquests have also been compared to both fascism and colonialism. However, I would make an objection to the idea that fascism was exclusively a European phenomenon: you are forgetting that Japan had also become a colonial and imperial power during this period. While the nature of the Japanese imperial political structure and whether it can be described as "fascist" is still debated, I tend to lean towards the side that argues that "fascism" is so vaguely defined in terms of what distinguishes it from colonialism and imperialism more generally that the question becomes meaningless. Whether or not you want to say that Imperial Japan was truly fascist, it was clearly a colonial power in the same vein as the European colonial powers and directly inspired by them. Colonialism was not an endeavor that only the Europeans were capable of pulling off. It was simply the case that European powers were the ones who got there first, and they actively worked whenever they could to ensure nobody else was capable of doing so.

So the question becomes: what is fascism? What makes it distinct from colonialism and imperialism? Which political movements are to be considered fascist and why? This is also contentiously debated to this day. I don't have a good answer to this question. All I can say is that fascism seems to be a particularly violent response by reactionary forces during particularly tumultuous periods in the decline of capitalism. It makes sense then that fascism would first occur in regions that are particularly economically developed. And it should also be said that fascism is obviously not a necessary stage for capitalism to go through but rather one possible form late-stage capitalism can take if reactionary forces feel threatened enough and are strong enough to establish it. If we want to prevent fascism from reoccurring, we need to nip it in the bud by depriving it of its material basis before it can grow large enough to re-establish itself.

(I'm open to hearing anyone's corrections or criticisms or suggestions! Please feel free to comment with your own opinions.)

[th3d0nutl0rd]

I've finally found someone else who likes Devereaux from Renegade Nell 😭😭 I adored your headcanons for him, please don't let that be all 🙏🙏🙏

Oh my gosh my prayers have been answered, I have been having a lot of thoughts about him recently 🙏🙏

What if his engagement to Eularia was not of his own volition- what if his father's gambling landed them in a tough spot financially, which resulted in him marrying his son to a wealthy older woman like Eularia against his will 🥲 it's sad to think about but would make sense in the given context

Alternatively, maybe he really is just the sober Jack Sparrow type- he'll flirt with anyone if it can get him out of a bad situation. So if the first one was a bit too depressing for you, you can always think of it this way too.

Early in the show he mentions the growing industries in the Americas (as we know now many of these would end up being Plantations) but he did mention hemp. If you haven't looked into it before, the hemp industry in America from the mid 1600s-1700s is really interesting, and it's funny to think of him as someone who wants to potentially oversee it (I believe it was popular amongst British mariners and had several different uses less common to us now than at the time)

Imagine him, based in America, exploiting British mariners with hemp... Amazing...

Also I'm British, and study history at college so I can tell you that if you were to insert yourself into this universe it's entirely plausible that y/n would be able to grow up alongside Devereux even as a pauper, let me explain why-

In the 1700s, many poor children or ones who came from lower middle class families (who had titles, but not money) would be educated by local families who were rich, and would pay off their student debt by working in that family's trade

For example if that family were blacksmithing business you might spend a summer in their forge- if they were fishermen you might spend time on their boats. Meaning Charles could've been educated alongside you! Whoo! Perfect setup for a childhood friends type storyline.

Magic tricks! We got to see him do some during the show, and I think it would be so cute to have him show you his favourite tricks, maybe sat huddled in a room at night whispering to each other like giddy teenagers while he shows you some new trick he learned

Leading into this, I also love his general giddiness and excitement as a character. He loves an adventure. He's always got a smile on his face. He's good with kids- we saw it with George. What a sweet guy 😭❤️

OH MY GOD AND THE DANCING!!! LET'S NOT FORGET THE DANCING!!! I have so many thoughts about his dancing I'm probably gonna make a separate post about it so please tell me if that's something you'd like to see

[longreads]

Top 5 Longreads of the Week

-A former plantation turned into a source of pride. -The freedom of a street dog. -The heavy toll of a gambling addiction. -The strained lives of South African copper thieves. -An uplifting profile of a rock icon.

Read this week's list from the Longreads editors!

[xaz-fr]

The Manor, a cult and a brothel

This lore has some adult themes in this cult that including sex, drugs, manipulation and is pretty problematic as a whole. This is some adult lore. Please read at your own digression.

more WBW this time about The Manor. A stately Southern Plantation style manor deep in the woods surrounded by swamp that seems to rise up out of the mists after long hot days. It's here that the Master lives with his little 'sex cult', or that's what the members of Cypress Hall call them. The Manor also acts as a den of sin, for gambling and as a brothel, but also hosts one of the best shows in the community.

The Master (above) is the head of the Manor. An older Skydancer who's all grace and charm has seen him out of many sticky situations. No one knows where he came from or what his real name is. He simply is the Master and all who live in the Manor follow him. Some more unerringly than others. He's a powerful magic user and very rich.

Axich is the Master's current 'favorite'. A deeply jealous young Skydancer who constantly needs attention and validation. He has a terrible personality but he's very pretty so is basically allowed to get away with whatever he wants. He isn't cruel but he is a brat. He often gets into fights with Nep about extremely stupid things. He's the Master's personal arm candy and bed warmer and apparently is... quite talented :o

Nephilim and Reivyn (said raven) are a couple. Neph is the 'former' favorite of the Master but if you ask Neph he's never not been the favorite. He just doesn't fuck the Master much anymore. He's a thief who got caught by the Master and got bent to his will to work for the Master as a dancer and concubine. He hasn't been a concubine in many years now but he still dances during shows, both private and public. Rei is a card shark and plays music and sings in the in house band. He's incredibly good and is both a great cheat and a liar. The only thing he seems to really enjoy is Neph and their children and getting drunk while gambling. Somehow he's better at cards when he's drunk. The Master hates him so fucking much but he's useful so he's allowed to stick around.

Silky is the Master's librarian. He's got a magical skin condition that makes his flesh almost see-through. The Master finds him a delight but Silky is quite... shy about it. He's one of the Master's private use members of the cult. Silky is pretty brain washed by the Master who keeps promising to look for a cure for his condition but it's been years with nothing to show for it. He's very soft spoken and shy so is rarely seen and thus others don't know how easily he's being manipulated or taken advantage of.

Tanduay also suffers a condition like Silky except she's been cursed by a witch. She isn't even sure why anymore? Se now is cursed to be partially smoke. The Master, like Silky, dangles the promise of breaking her curse over her head but it's been years with no progress. She's the Manor's cook and tends to all the needs of those who live here and the patrons. She has a daughter with the Master who's the light of her life but suffers the same curse as her. The Master seems more interested in studying their daughter than breaking either of their curses. Like Silky she is not for customer use but she does have sex with the Master sometimes. Less so since their daughter was born.

Fayne is the Master's high strung and incredibly loyal and competent butler. Big Alfred energy from this guy. You need something done you bring it to Fayne. He ensures the Manor runs smoothly and that the guests and 'merchandise' are having a good time. He's been with the Master forever, since he arrived. No one quite knows what hold the Master has over him as they don't sleep together and of anyone in the Manor Fayne is the one to tell the Master to fuck off the most. Fayne isn't for public use BUT it isn't uncommon for Sanya or Axich to see his stuffy sex negative self as a challenge and coheres him into sex with them. Usually publicly which is great for the sluts but an often embarrassing experience for Fayne himself wen he comes part of the show.

Sanya is the pearl of the Manor. The bell of the ball. She joined the cult because she saw hot guys were in it and wanted to bone down. And that's what se does. She's the most well known courtesan in the Manor and is quite popular demand. Unlike other members of the Manor the charms of the Master don't work on her. She'll fuck him if he asks but him being a charming cult leader just goes over her pretty cotton filled head. Despite being a courtesan for purchase she does have her own desires and preferences. She loves fooling around wit Tanduay because she's cute and watching the other Spiral just dissolve into smoke when flustered in peak for Sanya.

Zurina is the brood mother and costume designer for the Manor's players and prostitutes. She joined the cult because of Sanya but unlike her friend she drinks the swamp water about the Master. The Master is wonderful and perfect and can do no wrong. As you'd expect with a sex cult there are quite a few of the Master's children about and Zurina is the matron who looks after them when her time isn't bought by a patron but because she's quite cold to those outside the cult her services are rarely rendered.

The children of the Manor

Vernay, Tanvir and Azrael. Vernay is the eldest child of the Master as a preteen. Her mother is Tanduay and she helps her mother in the kitchens. The Master 'studies' her and her strange curse she shares with her mother but doesn't seem interested in breaking their curses. Tanvir and Azrael are the of the Master and Zurina. The Master wanted to see the affects of breed change scrolls on children and has been quite pleased with the results, even if Azrael is nearly as large as he is even as a baby.

Then there are the twins: Samael (boy) and Oriel (girl). The children of Neph and Rei via magical entwining. No one's quite... sure why they came out with different elemental eyes? Neph is an ice dragon and Rei a Shadow but the Manor exists within the domain of Light. There's been speculation that despite not being the Master's children he had some involvement in them being contrasting elements.

[hey-its-sybarite]

Gambled his money. Burned down his plantation. Burned down a theatre. Chose to live in a hovel with holes in his clothes. And only sighed when Lestat burned the hovel down too.

Weirdest change from the books is not the time setting, the race swapping, fucking Dubai, or the aging up. It’s Louis flipping houses, collecting art and talking about investment margins.

[covenofthearticulate]

“Such a pity, that one.” Lestat steps through the mausoleum threshold, tight-laced boots clacking against the cold stone as he makes his way towards the deliciously slender silhouette hunched by the grave at the end. 

He’d like to think he could find his way back to this place with his eyes shut, or walking backwards through the rain. Even if each and every marker in the St. Louis cemetery were upturned or washed away, he could still find my way back to the earth which holds just a bit of his lover’s heart. The city may change, but the old bones will always remain. And Louis will always belong to the old soil.

“Such beauty. Such youth. Taken all too soon.” He heaves a sigh as he waits for said silhouette to retreat from his melancholy daze.

Even in the darkness, Lestat catches a glimpse of the red-rimmed evidence of tears, hastily wiped but still leaving behind a rusty coloring against the ghastly pale of Louis’ skin as he turns around. He had fed tonight, Lestat can tell by the smell of some vagrant clinging to his clothes. But the tears take so much out of them. 

What a tender ghost Louis makes, haunting his own grave.

It makes Lestat’s heart ache yet still he cannot seem to stop himself from pressing on: “They say he went mad, in the end. Ran his plantation into the ground. But what a way to go! He looked so fine, even when he was gambling away his fortune and drinking away his wits in the riverside taverns. Even then, he had such lovely burning cynicism. Even then he had that spellbound longing in his eyes.”

Behind his back, he carries a bouquet of flowers. Fresh lilies from the darling florist two blocks down. Lestat smiles as he walks closer, and even he cannot tell if it is cruel or genuine, but still he brings one hand up to tuck a wisp of hair behind Louis’ ear. 

“Do you think anyone remembers him?”

“Why are you here, Lestat?” 

[AO3]

[dicapiito]

Jennifer Lopez is an awful piece of shit for sharing this shit but considering her ass stole music from Black Women & got married on a plantation; of fucking course she needed to share to the world that she made Ayo Edebiri cry

[ausetkmt]

Florida’s Gamble Plantation romanticizes a Confederate past | Bradenton Herald

https://www.bradenton.com/news/local/article272640515.html

The Gamble Plantation in Ellenton, Florida. In 2023, the Gamble Plantation near Bradenton remains a romantic postcard to the Old South, where slavery is glossed over. Ellenton

On a sunny spring day at a state park in Florida, the United Daughters of the Confederacy threw a government-sponsored fundraiser.

A poster for the 61st annual Gamble Plantation Spring Open House promised “fun, excitement and learning for the whole family.” It was emblazoned with a Confederate flag.

Another flier from the Florida Department of Environmental Protection offered a chance to “travel back to the Old South.”

On March 5, cars packed into the lot of the Judah P. Benjamin Confederate Memorial at Gamble Plantation Historic State Park near Bradenton.

Visitors wandered the grounds of the oldest building in Manatee County, where historical reenactors in 19th century period costume stood about.

“I Wish I Was in Dixie” rang out on a woodwind. Civil War-era goods and crafts were displayed beneath moss-covered oaks. Confederate and wartime flags flew.

But missing from the day’s events was any detailed mention of the majority who lived at the plantation and built its landmark home: enslaved people.

Walk Gamble’s grounds in 2023, and the decades of slavery that happened there are out of sight and out of mind.

“I think it’s great,” said Tom Goins, a visitor from Kentucky, said of the open house event. “I’m really surprised there’s not people out here trying to talk it down, because it is a memory of the days gone past and the Confederacy.”

A reenactor displaying a Confederate battle flag said, “I guess by some people it’s used for the wrong reasons. As a kid we used it as rebellious.

“There ain’t been no slavery in over 150 years,” he said, waving his hands dismissively.

In the shade of the Greek Revival-style mansion, crowds lined up for tours.

Inside, UDC members offered insights to the wealthy planter class lifestyle in mid-1800s Florida. The trappings of wealth — fine dishes, crystal, furniture — were preserved and displayed with care.

Lighthearted anecdotes, delivered with Southern tongue-and-cheek, told of the many inconveniences of life for some of Manatee County’s first white settlers.

Baths were a grimy affair. Beds needed frequent delumping. Mosquitoes were a constant menace. And so on.

“The history of the War Between the States is where we’re coming from,” said Peggy Veeder with the Judah P. Benjamin Chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy (UDC). “We support veterans, we donate to local charity, we have a scholarship contest. We promote history.”

The one-hour tour spotlighted two historical figures: Major Robert Gamble, the plantation’s original owner, and Judah P. Benjamin, the Confederate secretary of state whom the park memorializes.

Gamble first brought 10 enslaved Black men with him. That number had increased to 144 men, women and children by the time Gamble sold the plantation in 1858, and up to 190 by the 1860 census.

On the open house tour, a guide briefly described the classes of slave labor at Gamble: field workers, skilled laborers and house workers.

She described the house worker role as a “plum job.”

“Life was pretty good, as it could be,” the tour guide said, adding that children of enslaved people who worked in the house were often raised with white children of the household.

Then it was on to other subjects.

Missing were any details about how the enslaved people lived, the conditions they labored under, or what they contributed.

One visitor’s impression:

“A lot of the slaves had good lives,” Goins said. “It’s all the lives they had. And after they were free, they had nowhere to go. They had no one to take care of them.”

There is little to support or refute those claims at the state park.

While the exact conditions at Gamble have not been confirmed, historians have found that plantation owners often subjected enslaved people to extreme work hours, brutal whippings, sexual abuse, family separation, inadequate food, meager shelter and the denial of education, among other inhumane conditions.

At Gamble, there is only a ledger of slave names in the visitor’s center and a small sign on the property, next to the white-columned, two-story, 10-room mansion that the enslaved built brick by brick of clay and tabby.

Forever a Confederate shrine?

The United Daughters of the Confederacy purchased the then-crumbling Gamble Mansion and surrounding lands in 1925 before deeding it to the State of Florida.

The gift came with stipulations. A big one: the site must be preserved forever as a Confederate monument, with members of the UDC leading the effort to preserve it. The politically connected group has shaped the telling of the plantation’s history ever since, with the state’s blessing.

It’s also why the site is designated as the Judah P. Benjamin Confederate Memorial. Benjamin, often referred to as “the brains of the Confederacy” during the Civil War, is believed to have briefly stayed at the plantation as he fled to England after the South’s rebellion failed.

Benjamin was an accomplished lawyer and the first openly Jewish U.S. senator. He was also a slave owner and an outspoken advocate for it.

Benjamin’s connection with the Ellenton site is small compared to the enslaved people that built and spent many years of their lives there. The details of his stay at the home are surrounded in uncertainty.

“This memorial is dedicated to Confederate veterans,” says a monument raised in 1937. Elsewhere, a commemorative garden has bricks engraved with the names of members of Confederate heritage organizations.

As the grim parts of its history have faded into the background, the home has become an often romanticized landmark.

In the early 20th century, rosy postcards celebrated the mansion’s Southern charm.

“Steeped in legend and tradition it now stands in its original glory as a history reminder of the Civil War days,” one postcard reads.

‘It’s problematic’

Some see the park’s current use as a painful whitewashing of the past — one that paints a romantic picture of the pre-Civil War South without fully recognizing the atrocities that are also a part of its story.

“It’s a very exclusionary framework they have there. It’s problematic,” said Diane Wallman, an associate professor of anthropology and scholar of Atlantic slavery and colonialism at University of South Florida.

Wallman led archaeological digs at the site in 2017 and 2018 that unearthed thousands of artifacts from the home’s past.

One of her graduate students, Matthew Litteral, sought out the locations of the slave quarters using a combination of historical records and remote sensing technology. Historic accounts describe dwellings “built of palmetto logs, and thatched with the leaves” and later structures built of tabby.

His research revealed a promising site: a field owned by a private landowner adjacent to Blackburn Elementary School, near the ruins of a sugar mill that was once operated by the enslaved workers.

Other records indicate there may have been slave quarters between the Gamble Mansion and the Manatee River.

“Though high probability areas for the archaeological remains of enslaved houses were identified, no excavations were conducted at these sites due to a lack of landowner interest and skepticism from Ellenton townfolk,” Litteral wrote in his thesis.

No additional excavations have taken place.

How could Gamble be re-envisioned?

Other parks that have been reinterpreted around the U.S. include the historic homes of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and James Madison and former plantation sites like Whitney Plantation in Louisiana and McLeod Plantation Historic Site in South Carolina.

In his 2019 research, Litteral recommended the creation of a new tour script and additional markers at Gamble that include more narratives of the enslaved, as well as collaboration with their descendants.

Those looking for a more inclusive account of Southwest Florida’s past don’t have to look far. Just across the Manatee River, Reflections of Manatee in Bradenton offers visitors stories of the many groups of people that have influenced the area’s rich history.

They include Native Americans, Cuban fisherman, escaped enslaved peoples who formed the Angola settlement, and pioneer settlers of European descent.

“Our community today is so fractured, and part of that is because people don’t see that they have a shared history,” Reflections of Manatee President Sherry Svekis said.

“I’ve never quite understood how Gamble as a state park can really only concentrate on the glorious plantation building and the life of Robert Gamble and the escape of Judah P. Benjamin without acknowledging the reality of who cleared the fields and who did the cooking.

“I think if we’re looking to try to move forward as a community, we have to understand that every group of people who has lived here has contributed to who we are today and what our community is today.”

UDC’s long history of control

Though the UDC gifted Gamble Mansion and grounds to the state, records indicate that they have maintained a significant say in what happens there over the decades.

For years, the group’s power over interpreting the park was enshrined in state law, which called on the governor to appoint three out of five members of the park’s advisory council from the Judah P. Benjamin Chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy.

“It shall be the duty of the advisory council to advise the Division of Recreation and Parks of the Department of Environmental Protection in the operation, restoration, development, and preservation of the Judah P. Benjamin Memorial at Gamble Plantation Historical Site,“ said the statute, which was repealed in 2012.

USF researchers found that there have been several attempts to expand the historical narrative at Gamble. But they were consistently met with backlash from the United Daughters of the Confederacy.

“It’s been a long fight. There was one in the 70s, one in the 90s, one in the 2000s. You had Florida Parks Service staff who were interested in changing the interpretation,” Wallman said.

During its first iteration, the Gamble served as a museum to the Confederacy itself, and rooms were dedicated to the different states that seceded from the Union.

“The new script included historically accurate interpretations for rooms throughout the mansion, and emphasized the daily lives and tasks of enslaved laborers,” USF’s Litteral and Wallman wrote in a presentation to the Society for Historical Archaeology in 2018.

But records show that UDC members, upset at the idea of changing the museum from a Confederate shrine, appealed to Thomas Gallen, a conservative state senator. The lawmaker pressured Stevenson and the park system to compromise.

“In the end, the back two rooms of the house were left to be commemorative to Benjamin and Confederate heritage. Many edits were also made to Stevenson’s original tour script by members of the UDC, and in the end almost all mentions of slavery were omitted,” Litteral and Wallman said.

In recent years, UDC members have maintained an influence through the park advisory board, which most state parks have.

The Gamble Plantation Preservation Alliance (GPPA) supplies volunteer power and financial resources and helps decide priorities for the park.

Its current president, Gail Jessee, is founder of the Confederate Cantiñieres Chapter of the UDC in Tampa. Jessee also has helped organize movements against the removal of Confederate monuments around Florida.

“As far as I can tell, every director of the board there has always been a UDC member,” Wallman said. “So they control a lot of what goes on there.”

Jessee and the Florida Division of the UDC did not respond to the Herald’s request for comment.

Documents from the board suggest its leadership may be open to change.

“The GPPA has been working towards improving the interpretive value of the park by developing more information on the enslaved that worked the plantation,” says a report signed by Jessee in 2022. “It’s a difficult task and little by little improvements have been made and more is planned.”

But Wallman and other scholars question what is taking so long.

“I would say they’ve made small baby steps,” Wallman said. “We noticed some shift in the tours, with a little more mention of the enslaved.”

“Those were the majority of the people who were living there,” Wallman said. “But they get maybe a few sentences.”

Small changes ‘at a slug’s pace’

Felicia Silpa is the only member of the GPPA who returned requests for comment. She is not a member of the UDC. The former trauma nurse got involved at the park while she was going back to school to study anthropology.

Silpa now serves as the park advisory board’s archaeologist. She has been studying Gamble Plantation for over 20 years and has published research papers and articles that question the lack of history of enslaved people.

“The Gamble Plantation can move beyond being a repository for the planter material culture to one of a more inclusive historical museum that places African Americans in prominent roles rather than erasing them,” Silpa wrote in her 2008 master’s thesis at USF, which provides an outline of how to make the park’s interpretation of history more inclusive.

“I don’t know why we’re moving at a slug’s pace,” Silpa said.

“Right now, it’s theater,” Silpa said. “We go in and we have somebody telling us the story. And the story is Gamble. He’s the central character. But we can add other characters. We can add the enslaved, and be honest about what their experience was like.”

In 2020, one update was made at the park that mentions the enslaved. A marker donated by the Gamble Plantation Preservation Alliance depicts what one of the palm cabins that Black inhabitants lived in may have looked like.

The marker offers little detail. Silpa said it’s a step in the right direction.

“I’m proud that we are moving forward. It’s about time,” Silpa said. “But there’s more that can be added to the story.”

Where historical scholars and the UDC can agree is that Gamble Plantation is worth preserving.

Park visitors call for change

State records show that Gamble Plantation gets about 50,000 visitors a year. Calls for change at the park are nothing new.

Visitors, community members, historians and activists have taken issue with how slavery is downplayed at the site. Here are some of their takeaways after visiting:

“While the informed tour guide knew about the slaves who lived here, built the place, and operated the sugar plantation, he only referred to them in response to my questions,” Bernard Leikind wrote in 2016. “There is nothing of slave life on display, and I saw no evidence of archaeological investigation of slave life.”

“Maybe it’s time for the State of Florida to rethink how it is presenting history at the Gamble Plantation,” Robert Plunket wrote for Sarasota Magazine in 2017. “At the moment, it would be an unpleasant experience for African-American schoolchildren.”

“At Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp... imagine if jocular tour guides focused upon the life and times of the Nazi officials, with only a nod to the 1.1 million victims who perished?” Vanessa Hua wrote for the San Francisco Chronicle after visiting the park in 2020.

“It’s impossible to imagine many black Americans — even those who determined that an ancestor had been enslaved at the Gamble property — would feel comfortable visiting the park given its Confederate memorial overlay,” Mark R. Howard wrote for Florida Trend in 2020.

Chandra Carty, a Manatee County woman with direct family ties to a man who was enslaved at Gamble, recently came forward to call for change at the site in an interview with 10 Tampa Bay WTSP. “They obscured what really happened here,” Carty said.

“Slave plantations should be a source of collective shame and sorrow, a historic source of healing, not a space to have a ‘Gone with the Wind’ moment or weddings or picnics,” John Sims wrote in a Tallahasee Democrat opinion piece in 2020. “And the idea that a former slave plantation, as a shrine, as a state park, is being used to memorialize the Confederacy, with taxpayers’ funds, with descendants of African slaves’ tax dollars, reflects a serious breach of moral accountability.”

Sims was a Sarasota artist and former Ringling College of Art and Design professor who in 2020 started a campaign to “rename and recontextualize” Gamble Plantation.

He died unexpectedly at age 54 last December, and Gamble hasn’t yet changed.

But his vision for reinterpreting plantation sites lives on, said Kyeelise Thomas, a Sarasota writer and journalist who is working on a memoir of Sims’ life and work.

“In John’s view, the park was named after a traitor,” Thomas said.

“He wanted to compel people to understand that if you can honor a stranger who was hosted on a piece of land in the state of Florida, surely you can honor the lives that worked, that toiled, that were lost on that land under the plantation system.”

In 2021, Sims teamed up with USF’s Department of Anthropology to host a four part series titled “Monuments, Markers and Memory.” It included a roundtable at Gamble aimed at pressuring the state to change the park’s name and broaden its narrative.

More than a monument

Like many Confederate monuments, Ellenton’s was established decades after the Civil War ended, during the Jim Crow era of segregation.

Common arguments for creating Confederate monuments include honoring the dead and preserving history. But critics say they were used as tools to rewrite history and uphold notions of white supremacy and “Lost Cause Ideology.”

The Atlanta History Center defines lost cause ideology as “an alternative explanation for the Civil War developed by white Southerners after the war’s end, (that) seeks to rationalize the Confederacy. It claims that slavery was not the central cause of the Civil War. Instead, it claims the primary motivations for secession were threats to the U.S. Constitution and the principle of states’ rights.”

“White peoples in power, including former Confederates, enacted racial segregation laws to create a society based on white supremacy — one that mimicked the Southern social, political, and economic order of slavery prior to the Civil War and emancipation. These laws were reinforced by social practices as well as race-based violence,” the Atlanta History Center says in its guide to interpreting Confederate monuments.

In Manatee County, documented cases of racial violence in the Jim Crow era included at least six lynchings and an active presence of the Ku Klux Klan.

“Confederate Statues Were Never Really About Preserving History,” a 2020 project by data journalism group FiveThirtyEight is titled. It found that Confederate memorials started going up by the hundreds in the early 1900s, “soon after Southern states enacted a number of sweeping laws to disenfranchise Black Americans and segregate society.”

“And this effort was largely spearheaded by the United Daughters of the Confederacy, who sponsored hundreds of statues, predominantly in the South in the early 20th century — and as recently as 2011,” the project reported.

One such monument, a 22-foot memorial to Confederate veterans and “the best traditions of the South,” was removed from downtown Bradenton in 2017 after protests for social justice.

Commissioners previously discussed Gamble Plantation as a potential home for it, but more recently expressed interest in reinstalling it downtown.

Throughout the South, many monuments like it have come down permanently as sentiment grows that they do not belong in public spaces.

“There’s no joy we find in the Confederate flag or any statue that represents that time,” Manatee NAACP Luther Wilkins previously told the Herald. “To other people, it would be a war that was fought for a family’s livelihood and way of life, but to us, it’s a bitter past. It’s a hurtful past.”

Gamble Plantation is just one example of Confederate symbols and culture that enjoy special protection under Florida law.

Despite several attempts to repeal them, current laws protect the Confederate flag from “improper use or mutilation.” Confederate Memorial Day and the birthdays of Robert E. Lee and Jefferson Davis are legal Florida holidays.

Park’s future is unclear

Though the UDC’s influence remains active at Gamble, it’s ultimately the state that decides how its history is presented.

A 2022 report by the Citizen Support Organization makes reference to a possible name change and reinterpretation of the park. But it is unclear if any plans are still in motion.

“In July 2020, we were informed our Park was to be ‘re-interpreted’ as well as a possible park name ‘change,’” says the document, which is signed by GPPA president Gail Jessee. “With this possibility overshadowing any CSO plans coupled with no communication from Tallahassee on whether the GPPA will be included in this new direction, it is difficult to set long-range goals to work toward.”

The state parks system is overseen by the Florida Department of Environmental Protection. When asked if there were any active plans to reinterpret the site in 2023, FDEP did not give a definitive answer.

“The Florida Park Service is committed to providing resource-based recreation while preserving, interpreting and restoring natural and cultural resources, and the agency strives to do this in a positive and appropriate manner,” FDEP spokesperson Alexandra Kuchta wrote in an email.

“Our agency is always evaluating how we communicate Florida’s unique history across all state parks, including at Gamble Plantation Historic State Park.”

The park’s manager was prohibited from speaking with the media.

This story was originally published June 15, 2023, 11:40 AM.

[noisyberryl]

Part II

Rising through the ranks, Samuel embraced the tenets of loyalty and respect that defined the Yakuza. He adopted the name “Saito,” paying homage to the very culture he admired while leaving behind the chains of his past. His operations diversified from gambling and protection rackets to legitimate business ventures, including restaurants and import-export shops. With each success, he amassed considerable wealth, all the while nurturing and recruiting those who shared his dreams of prosperity.

Yet, Samuel/Saito remembered his roots. He opened an apprenticeship program for young men and women in the community, offering them a chance to learn trades and escape the cycle of poverty and crime. His dual life as a wealthy crime boss and a community benefactor earned him a dual respect and fear, solidifying his position as one of the most powerful figures in San Francisco.

As the years passed, Saito’s empire expanded not just in physical wealth but in influence. He became a legend, a symbol of resilience and transformation—a young boy who had escaped the confines of a southern plantation only to forge his own destiny in the bustling streets of the West. He carried the stories of his family with him always, reminding those who followed him that true strength comes from overcoming adversity.

In the back rooms of his businesses, where shadows and smoke intertwined, Saito sometimes reflected on the journey—a journey that started when shackles bound his feet, and ended with him standing at the pinnacle of power, where he could command respect as much as fear. Samuel’s childhood dream had transformed him into Saito, a name that would echo through the annals of history as one of the unlikely kings of organized crime

[astoldbyaja]

The Pink Blossom Ch.10

I just sat across from Taka and Higen and her youngest child, Magojiro who just seemed to laugh and make faces at me. I smiled at him before noticing Taka look up at us two and cover the young child’s face. I looked down for a moment and ate my rice in silence before looking up at Taka.

“If I am permitted to ask, how did you come to speak English?” I asked and Taka looked up at me and then looked down for a moment.

“I was taught a long time ago.” she replied, and I nodded and noticed how empty her eyes were and I tilted my head knowing that feeling.

“Are you in mourning, Taka?” I asked, and she paused in her eating and looked up at me with mild hard eyes.

“Yes. My husband was killed by your American.” she said, and I winced and felt very awkward being here now and I swallowed some and looked down.

“I am sorry. I know this is not easy for you at all… but I am sorry.” I responded and she just shook her head.

“I heard… he tried to kill the soldier and it was karma.” she replied, and I just stared at her for a moment before deciding to just eat in silence and listen to rain fall. Once the eating was done, I offered to help Taka with the dishes, but she heavily refused, and I decided to leave her alone.

I was standing outside on the wooden porch they had with a roof over it and I watched as Higen was playing with wooden swords with another boy. Playing in the rain was never allowed at any plantation I was on. They could catch a cold, but I said nothing for I didn’t have to look after anymore kids. Ever. I then saw Nathan walking in the rain with Nobutada, and I smiled happy he was back.

I watched Higen continue to pretend to spar with the other boy, and he managed to knock the sword out of his hand and press the sword to the boy’s neck. I smiled curious and amused by the boys fighting. Nathan integrated with the two boys and began to pick up the sword and nodded at the boy.

“Nicely done.” he praised and began to hand the wooden sword back to the boy, but he bowed his head and backed away. I blinked and curiosity of this and could see the confusion on Nathan’s face as well. Nobutada was saying something to him that I could not understand.

“You try.” he said, and then backed away before shouting something, I was assuming was the go ahead for the two to start. Taka was just exiting the house and watching beside me.

I was shocked she did not mind standing close to me. I watched Nathan and Higen begin to play spar. Nathan of course had the upper advantage and was not afraid to show it. Higen kept trying to swipe at Nathan but he just dodged and swiped before grabbing the sword with his bare hand. I was taken back by the swiftness of it all before hearing a sharp command coming from afar. I closed my eyes with a soft and quick groan before looking over to see Ujio coming over with three other samurai, his arms crossed and showing major disapproval. Oh lord have mercy.

My body tensed, feeling as though there could be some type of fight. That was not something we needed now. I felt my body begin to move forward as if I should go over and defend Nathan. But a swift grab to my wrist stopped me, and I looked up to see Taka just staring out at the scene, and I could only imagine the feelings she was experiencing. I looked back toward the men and remained in place.

Ujio’s POV

I couldn’t say I felt completely better from my spar with my comrades, but I was content knowing I would be going back to my lodge and knowing that Grace would be there. Thinking of our time that night gave me a small sense of hope that maybe she would visit my room again. Or maybe I would visit her room this time.

The rain relaxed me as I walked with my friends listening to them babble about mindless gambling. I was passing Taka’s home and a few others when I saw a sight that made my blood boil over again. The American swine was bothering Higen. It was bad enough, my lord let him stay in his home after he cut down Hirotaro, my close friend, and now the dog thought he was worthy enough to even pick up a sword let alone challenge my late friend’s son. No. I wouldn’t allow this dishonor of my friend’s memory!

“Stop!” I demanded in our native tongue causing everyone to look in our direction. I began to move over toward the two and Higen stepped away, but the swine just slowly turned and looked at me. I held my own wooden sword in my hand as I began to walk over toward the dog, my glare hard and firm.

However, over his shoulder I could see Grace staring down at me watching me intently with her eyes, and I knew she did not want me to continue with my plan to teach her dog a lesson. I inhaled some in thought of this. I hated the realization that I did not want her to be upset with me, so I glanced at the American now and tried to remember that he too was a guest in the village.

“Put down the sword.” I motioned with my sword for him to drop the sword to the ground. I would give him the chance to submit and do as he was told. If he was smart, he would do it, he would put the sword down and walk away.

But the American just looked down at the sword and then back at me, his body just standing there. Now I tensed, feeling challenged, and I liked being challenged by my enemies.

“PUT IT DOWN!” I commanded once more this time with more bass in my command. The dog just turned and began to face me holding up the sword. So, he needed to be broken? Okay, I could help him with that. I placed the sword amongst my shoulder leisurely as I began to confront him. I glanced up at Grace and with my eyes I told her he was asking for it. I knew she was nervous and afraid that I would just kill her American, but luckily I was good at restraint depending on the situation.

The American slowly raised his sword, but kept it downward as he watched me intently. I didn’t even need long to study his weak posture. He knew nothing of the opponent he was facing. I pretended to strike above him, which he attempted to swipe me first, but I dodged and quickly elbowed him in the stomach.

He grunted hard and froze up a bit before stumbling down to his knees. He tried to raise his arm to point the sword at me, but I hit his arm hard and swiftly, causing him to drop the sword swiftly. I glanced at Grace, and I could see the look of despair in her eyes. Why did she care so much for this cur? I knew why, and the reasoning enraged me more!

Against my better judgement, I just kicked the sword away and turned from the dog. He belonged on the ground. I could hear more movement and panting behind me and turned to see the swine getting up and standing his ground. I frowned further and shook my head. I would have to show her what I could do to her American and I will show him of who she belongs to.

Grace’s POV

I watched as Nathan challenged Ujio, and Ujio just knocked him down with one harsh beating after the next. I winced unable to see my friend in such pain, but I would not move. This was a fight between men, and I knew well not to intervene. Ujio was vicious in each of his assaults to make Nathan drop the wooden sword, but Nathan was not easily broken. He continued to get up even if it was slower and slower, but he continued to defy Ujio. And I couldn’t have been prouder of him.

 Finally, it was all over when Nathan tried at a feeble attempt to swing at Ujio who just gripped the sword. He tried to pull it from Nathan, but he still held strong. So Ujio violently smacked Nathan on the side of face causing him to flip on his back and finally release the sword. Ujio just stared down at him with a scolding cold look before throwing Higen the sword and glancing up at me. I winced softly and in unison we both turned away from each other. I returned inside to find a blanket for Nathan as he left down his own path.

I helped bring Nathan inside with Nobutada as he was knocked out cold. I lied him on the ground and stayed with him as Taka left to get medicine to patch him up. Once I could hear him snoring, I just rubbed his forehead for a moment soothing him.

“Ujio was teaching him way of the sword.” Nobutada said. I looked up at him and sighed gently. The rain outside did not lighten up.

“He is quite the firm teacher.” I noted lightly. Nobutada nodded.

Taka arrived and bowed her head at me.

“It is getting late you should return to Ujio.” she said. I winced and glanced down at Nathan before looking at Nobutada and he nodded at me.

“He will be fine.” he said, and I just looked back down at Nathan hearing raspy noises coming from his throat.

I nodded and got up dusting my dress off and ringing out the extra water.  Taka motioned her head to me.

“You get sick in that. You should change quickly.” she advised.

I only nodded at her advice before turning to look back down at Nathan one last time before slowly moving and leaving the lodge.

The rain was still falling so I lifted my dress some and hurried back to Ujio’s lodge. My entire outfit was ruined, my hair falling from its up do and once I was at Ujio’s front porch, I paused and just stood there for a moment. Did I want to go back inside at this moment? No, I was angry at Ujio for what he did to Nathan. But the cold water on my body was reminding me that inside is warm and that I couldn’t afford to get sick right now. I move inside and was met with warmth. All was quiet in the lodge and so I moved to my room so I could hurry and get out of my wet dress.

I unbuttoned my dress quickly and hurried to get into one of the kimonos that was left for me. However, I was still cold. I needed warmth. I remember Taka had some strange fireplace like fixture of where she boiled water and other things. I was sure Ujio had the same. Once the kimono was on correctly, I left the room and moved down the hall searching for this room that would hold the fireplace contraption. All of the doors of the rooms were open, so I had a clear view of each room.

I finally found Ujio in the open space of the house where the fireplace was. He still in his wet clothes but sitting down beside the heated furnace. I guess he was just as cold as I was. I noticed he was drinking something and from the steam coming from the cup, I realized it was tea. He seemed calm and collected as if what happened earlier didn’t bother him. He finally turned to me, and I just stared at him for a moment, my body giving a mild visible shiver to remind me of why I was here. Ujio must have noticed for he turned to the other side and picked something up.

I slowly approached, drawn to the heat of the room. He held up a cup to me and I noticed it was another cup of warm tea. I looked at it for a moment before taking the cup. He held his arm up to the spot across from him and I sat down slowly.

“Arigatō.” I said softly to him. He gave a gentle nod and grunt before moving to drink his tea quietly. The rain felt heavily atop of us, and I just listened to it as I sipped the tea. It brought heat through my body starting with my throat. A part of me wanted to yell at him for what he did to Nathan, but sitting here, was peaceful and I didn’t want any anger to touch this peaceful moment.

“Will you teach me something?” I asked lowly. Ujio looked up at me curiously, grunting in question. “Will you teach me how to make this tea?” He looked at the cup before nodding.

“Hai.” he replied. I nodded and drank in silence.  What was there to do now?

“When you find yourself alone like this, what do you like to do?” I asked. He looked at me with a content stare.

“I pray or meditate. I search for inner peace.” he said. I tilted my head.

“Is such a thing possible during war?” I asked.

“You can find inner peace in any situation of life.” he said. I nodded in response.

“During your time with the American, what were your duties to him?” he asked. I looked at the cup for a moment.

“Most of the time, I had to still act like a servant with him when around others. It was to ensure there was no… hostility from jealous eyes. A white man treating an African as equal is very frowned upon.” I replied. He watched me for a moment, and I looked down again. In some way, I was never really free. There is no freedom for someone like me.

We both got to our feet, leaving the cups fo tea where they sat. I was warm enough and I made my way to the doorway, just as Ujio was doing the same. As I entered the hallway, I feel a grip on the sleeve of my kimono, and I pause and glance in his direction. I didn’t realize how close he was to me. He was inches from my face, and I could feel the heat of his skin radiating off me. But I didn’t know what he wanted from me and so I would not make any assumptions.

His eyes were asking me. He was asking me. Will you come to my room tonight?

“I have bothered you enough.” I replied softly, and I could see the mild look of hurt and disappointment in his eyes. He gave a curt nod, and I just turned and hurried to my room. Once inside, I just covered my mouth and took even breaths.

[whencyclopedia]

Native American Enslavement in Colonial America

Slavery was practiced by the Native Americans before any Europeans arrived in the region. People of one tribe could be taken by another for a variety of reasons but, whatever the reason, it was understood that the enslaved had done something – staked himself in a gamble and lost or allowed himself to be captured – to warrant such treatment.

This model changed with the arrival of the Spanish in the West Indies in 1492 and their colonization of that region, South, and Central America throughout the 16th century. Native Americans were then enslaved simply for being Native Americans. In North America, after the English arrived, Native Americans were at first enslaved as prisoners of war but, eventually, were taken and sold to plantations in the West Indies to clear the land for expansion of English colonies.

This practice continued throughout the colonial era aided and encouraged by Native American tribes themselves up through 1750 and, after the American War of Independence (1775-1783), natives were pushed into the interior as African slavery became more lucrative. Even so, the enslavement of Native Americans continued even after slavery was abolished by the 13th Amendment to the Constitution in 1865. Americans got around illegal enslavement of natives by calling it by other names and justified it in the interests of "civilizing the savages". The practice continued up through 1900, dramatically impacting Native American cultures, languages, and development.

Native American Slavery & Columbus

Native American tribes were incredibly diverse, each with their own culture, and far from the cohesive, unified civilization they are often represented as under the umbrella term "Native American" or "American Indian". Each tribe understood itself as inherently superior to others and although they would form alliances for short periods in a common cause, or for longer periods as confederacies, they frequently warred with each other for goods, in the name of tribal honor, and for captives, among other reasons.

Men, women, and children taken captive were then enslaved by the victorious tribe, sometimes for life and other times for a given number of years and, in still other cases, until they were adopted and became members of the tribe. People could also be enslaved as hostages, held to ensure compliance with a treaty, and in some tribes, people were not only enslaved for life but any children born to them were also considered slaves, thereby creating a slave class long before the arrival of Europeans.

This model changed after the arrival of Christopher Columbus (l. 1451-1506) in the West Indies in 1492 and the Portuguese in 1500. Columbus kidnapped natives he brought back to Spain as slaves on his first voyage and sent over 500 back on his second. Between 1493-1496, he implemented the encomienda system, which institutionalized Native American enslavement throughout the Spanish colonies of the New World, and, by the time the French, Dutch, and English began colonizing North America, the Transatlantic Slave Trade was already established.

Continue reading...

[clove-pinks]

The latest addition to the War of 1812 collection: The Slaves' Gamble: Choosing Sides in the War of 1812, by Gene Allen Smith. It came to my attention when I discovered Smith's essays about Black Americans in the War of 1812 on the US National Park Service website.

Although I have barely touched this book, it puts forth the interesting argument that the War of 1812 "halted all progress" on gradually emancipating enslaved people and moving away from enslaved labour in the United States. Black veterans and trained soldiers were so alarming to enslavers that they convinced "southern slaveowners of the need to tighten their bonds of control," and ultimately "the war opened new lands across the Gulf South that permitted the growth and expansion of the plantation agricultural system, and the cotton-producing Deep South was born."

I have absolutely noticed the racist backlash and heightened restrictions following the War of 1812. This is also a major topic in Alan Taylor's book The Internal Enemy: Slavery and War in Virginia, 1772-1832, and there is a history of British troops exploiting white American racial fears (and the readiness of enslaved people to take up arms against their oppressors) during both the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812.

A trend of gradual enlightenment on racial issues in the 18th century being reversed in the 19th century with even greater prejudice is also the theme of Daniel Livesay's book Children of Uncertain Fortune: Mixed-Race Jamaicans in Britain and the Atlantic Family, 1733-1833 (in my 2023 to-read pile). The War of 1812 also contributed to the Atlantic World diaspora, as Smith writes:

Yet black participation [in the War of 1812] also had another Atlantic World dimension in that it represented the greatest nineteenth-century diaspora of blacks from the United States. And as they relocated to the British colonies of Bermuda, Canada, or Trinidad, they took their American identity with them while consciously modifying it to suit their destination.